by Holly Rutan
I nodded and loped away after a wistful look over at Penny. We still hadn't had a chance to sit back and catch up. Somehow I doubted we would get the chance any time soon.
Chapter Twenty-One
As I ran I barked, "Out! All! Out!" and scouted for errant snaps that might have forgotten to set their watches. Brutus joined me, redirecting his attention from holdout civilians to stubborn agents and gang members. Unlike me he could not say even the simplest of words in battle form. His high-pitched, piercing squeal worked as well as a siren, though, and we drew those few who hadn't noticed the time away from their tasks like a magnet pulls iron filings from sand.
I was worried we'd missed some people. Unfortunately, there was no time for another full sweep, and we'd been as thorough as we could. My phone alarm confirmed it: we had less than five minutes to get into position. The gathered snaps scattered to their places around the perimeter, as far away as we could get while still being within sight of the projected epicenter. The intent was to keep us so evenly spaced that we presented no convenient targets. Ideally, we'd have left the scene entirely, but those of us left had talents too valuable to discard.
The surge's strident music had changed over time from the screaming roar of a locomotive to the rhythmic pounding of drums, and the beat shuddered through my body. From the south, I could hear the La Brea current approaching. It sounded more like real music than the Valerio spring ever had: Not nearly so loud. Wild. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing. A "tame" current, if ever one existed.
All of the fur on my body stood at attention as the approaching current reached my position. The immersion was sudden and complete—at one moment I felt crushed between the wild surge in the north and the smoothly flowing current coming from the south, and then I was caught by it. The current tried to pull me along, and for a brief moment, I was tempted to follow its swirls and eddies, to see where it would take me. I dug my talons into the concrete under my feet, and it passed me by.
God, I hoped we'd managed to find all the snaps down there.
The current collided with the powerful upwelling of magic from the Valerio spring. My ears popped, and I clapped my hands over them, shaking my head. They popped again, declaring a real-world change in air pressure. It felt like a heavy blanket had been thrown over our bodies and was crushing us to the ground. I opened and shut my mouth in a simulated yawn, but the feeling did not subside.
As the two magical sources collided, the La Brea current began to wrap around the Valerio spring, stifling the place where the new current began to flow toward the east. Rather hysterically I noted that the resulting symphony sounded something like Wagner.
The two agents I was stationed with didn't seem to be able to hear or feel anything. Terrence, who specialized in heavy weapons, was watching me instead of the Street. His partner Roy adjusted his goggles and slowly lowered them, eyes wide.
"It is coming," I said. My battle form had changed again with the pulsing of the current, and speech flowed from my mouth, unhindered by my long tongue and sharp teeth. My voice was rough and more than half growl, but understandable.
I shook my head and pawed at my face. The pressure was unbelievable, even if the other agents didn't seem to notice. My hand came away coated in blood from my nose. I turned my head away and sneezed to clear it, spraying a small red cloud. More blood was dripping from my ears in an irritating trickle.
Roy and Terrence knelt in unison and trained their weapons toward the Street. They'd traded their night-vision goggles for scopes, since the light was bright enough to see by. I crouched maybe a body length behind them and waited tensely, binoculars in hand.
The music stopped. My heart pounded as though to make up for the sudden silence. I snapped my binoculars up to my eyes and peered at a pulsating blue anomaly forming in the middle of the Street, disregarding the blood streaking my face and pooling on the ground. Whatever was happening to me hadn't killed me, so I'd heal.
The rift opened up like a malignant sore, weeping virulent blue light and snaking out tendrils like some sort of infection. It moved in perfect, shocking silence and began to shred its surroundings, the tendrils tearing deep gashes in the ground. A rope of blue magic grasped an old derelict car and flung it inside the rift, which pulsed and spat it out. The old, rusted vehicle threw sparks as it skidded across concrete and came to a stop at least a dozen yards away.
Another tendril lashed out and grabbed at one of the weird critters that I'd fought off earlier and hurtled it into the rift's center. Squealing, the creature disappeared into light so pale it was almost white. The tendril, freed of its burden, felt around the ground blindly for another victim. The rest followed suit.
"Jesus, Lord Almighty," muttered Terrence.
"I don't think," I growled as quietly as I could, "that He has anything to do with this."
"No, I think you're right," Roy answered.
We watched in horrified silence until the tendrils subsided a quarter of an hour later. The rift itself had eaten away the ground it touched until it floated in an inverted sphere on the ground, which was perfectly smooth and appeared as shiny as glass. The tendrils eventually found themselves with no targets—all of our soldiers had retreated back beyond their range, and they'd stolen away every creature from field mice to a terrified, screaming hobo who had been much too clever at hiding from us.
Then the pulling began.
I crumpled over with a groan, clutching at my stomach. Wracking pain shuddered through my body as the rift pulled at my being. It was leeching away my magic, I realized, and replacing it with something else. Something dark and discordant.
I would not allow that.
With a furious growl, I blocked off the leeching, grasping hunger of the rift with a mental barrier of fur and claws. I would not be its prey. I declared this with bared teeth and a guttural howl, startling my guards. The pulling subsided with a sulky murmur.
My phone chose that moment to ring. I snorted and fumbled at my pockets. Answering it with clawed hands was a difficult process; I'd never understood how women could deliberately grow their nails long.
"This is Davis," I rumbled.
"Find a way to shut this thing down," Voneshi ordered.
"Yes, sir," I snarled, and hung up. Turning to my two agents, I said, "Gents, it's time for me to earn my keep. Watch my back, would you?"
"Yes, ma'am," they answered in unison.
I settled back on my haunches and listened, not sure where to start. The current was quiet but not completely silent as I had first thought. Perhaps the rift had a limit on how much it could pull in at once. Whatever. At least I had something to work with, even if it was only a whisper.
When I closed my eyes to concentrate, I discovered that I could see the rift even with my eyes shut. That was distracting, although at least I knew exactly where I needed to focus my attention at all times.
The howl that left my lips was inquisitive, built upon the song wolves sing when sensing a visitor. Not pack but not yet enemy. A lie, of course, but no need to antagonize an already hostile and powerful presence. Who/what are you? I inquired in song.
The song traveled across the gap and disappeared, eaten by a ravenous maw. I felt the rift pulse, and a tendril quested in my direction, whipping through the air and investigating everything still within reach. It retreated, disappointed when it stretched to the end of its range.
A snarl spread across my face and forced my lips back down over my teeth. It looked like a direct approach would be fruitless. I thought for a moment and then barked a barrage of high-pitched notes, squeaks almost, that blanketed the rift's surroundings. With a tilt of my head, I analyzed the notes that returned. A number of them had been eaten. That information was useful, too; it let me know the siphon's range.
Aside from telling me something that a quick listen had already determined—that the flow of the La Brea current was redirected straight into the maw of the rift and that the Valerio upwelling had ceased its own normal flow to the east from its or
igin—my little questing song gave me nothing. Ambient magic was seeping toward the pull of the rift, but there was no obvious melodic framework to direct it.
None of those strange, discordant runes were within view. No one visible had cast this song, unlike during the other attacks. I could scent no blood but my own, and I thought that I should smell blood runes even from this distance with the amount that it would have taken for a song of this magnitude. So where was the anchor? More importantly, what was the rift supposed to do?
It flared as though to answer me, expanded, and then retracted in a pulse. As it retracted, it spat a figure out on the ground, tiny with distance. A still smaller, four-legged figure separated from the first and scampered away, shouting taunts that echoed all the way up to our position. Motions from surrounding agents suggested a hunt for the creature.
I was running before I'd even realized I was in motion, leaping over the multiple barricades that had been erected and barreling toward the rift. I could hear Roy and Terrence behind me, trying to keep up.
As fast as I was though, Voneshi was much closer. As the strange female leaped out of the crater and away from the reach of the deadly blue tendrils, he stepped forward and grabbed the her arm, training his gun at the newcomer’s skull. She froze, putting up her hands.
My boss twisted her arm back behind her back and snapped cuffs on her before pushing her into the arms of the waiting agents.
I skidded to a halt in front of my boss, gasping for breath.
"I thought I ordered you to remain at the perimeter," Voneshi said.
"My apologies, sir," I answered. "Dismantling this thing is going to take some study. I'd like permission to examine the prisoner for magic before we move her away from the scene."
"Carry on," Voneshi allowed, acknowledging the potential danger. With an irritable wave of his hand, he continued, "And somebody catch that cat. It’s laughing at us."
He moved to speak to Tyrant, who was studying the readings on the equipment Penny and I had set up earlier. Tyrant's muttered as he traced his finger across a computer monitor, reciting what he saw into a microphone. As far as I was concerned, our new prisoner was higher priority. She was being held in a cluster of agents and soldiers, who were already hustling her toward the perimeter. I stopped them with a sharp bark.
My two guards finally caught up, and I had the feeling that if they weren't half-afraid of me, they'd be telling me off. I acknowledged them with a nod.
"Sorry, gents. Didn't mean to leave you behind. Agents, lift her up, if you please. Thank you," I ordered. With a growl I shook myself and settled my fur, sitting back on my haunches to inspect the prisoner.
"Now what the heck are you?" I asked, peering at the creature.
"I think the more useful question would be, what in Hell am I?" the woman replied in a soft, hoarse voice, giving odd emphasis to the swear word. Her feet, clad in heavy combat boots that matched a black uniform not that much different than my own, swung several inches over the ground. In my not-so-expert judgment, the uniform looked military.
I snorted and began my examination, not replying.
The woman was a little shorter than me, which took some doing since I just barely crack five feet in human form. She had rich reddish-brown hair, cut short and gelled with something that smelled like spices, a light dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks, and vivid blue eyes with alien slit pupils. Her ears were large and pointed, and she sported inch-long, black talons on the tips of her fingers and sharp upper and lower canines.
"Looks like some kind of cute little cartoon character," I muttered. "Smells like something set on fire and left for dead for a few days."
"You wouldn't believe how often I get that," the woman answered. "Sorry about the stink. The family's a smelly bunch."
"Also smells like gun oil and metal. Search her," I ordered.
The woman didn't struggle against her restraints as agents removed her weapons. She had plenty: two braces of throwing knives in her shirt, a pair of longer blades in her boots, a garrote strung along her belt, some odd-looking orbs filled with powder in a pouch, and a semiautomatic pistol etched with red runes. I sent a runner with the powder and handgun straight to the labs.
The whole time the woman grinned widely, showing her sharp canines. My lips stretched in response, as I sensed the aggression behind her bared teeth.
"Subject's a walking arsenal but doesn't sound like any magic. Let's get her to the perimeter. No, don't let her walk. A girl who carries that much weaponry is going to know how to use it. Trust me," I said. Then, to the woman, I added, "You can tell me who you are and why you're here while we walk."
"While you walk, you mean," the woman said, flashing her teeth in a wide grin. "But no worries. I know you're just doing your job. Nothing personal. So am I. I wouldn't have taken this one—it's never a good idea to work for family, you know—but the terms of the contract were too good to pass up."
"I see," I said, displaying my fangs in response to her expression. "And what were the terms of your contract?"
"Sorry, I signed a nondisclosure agreement," the woman answered, smirking. "It's terribly rude to work and tell. Can't talk about it until the contract is completed. You'll find out soon enough."
Behind me I felt the rift pulse and gritted my teeth. It wouldn't be safe to let the prisoner out of my sight until we'd gotten her properly restrained in a van.
Three more steps and a masculine voice started shrieking from the direction of the portal. The woman started laughing, a gravelly chuckle that made my fur stand on end. Despite my best intentions, I couldn't help but look back. A man—not one of ours—had been caught up in the tendrils of the portal. It shook him like a baby would shake a rattle, and then tore him to pieces. Blood and meaty chunks showered to the ground.
"That's that, then. Contract's up. I told Daddy you would be predictable. Thanks for the cooperation," our prisoner announced.
"What?" I asked, bewildered.
Several of the soldiers who surrounded us drew their weapons at her words, causing the agents holding our prisoner to loosen their grips as they prepared to defend me. With an agile flip, the woman twisted away and landed on the ground. Ignoring the guns—they weren't loaded with silver—I lunged for the prisoner before she could escape.
"Sal!" the woman yelled in a rough shout.
"On it," a deep, masculine voice replied from somewhere out of sight. "Try not to get shot for a few more seconds. Can't just go to the corner store for new clothes, you know."
The woman laughed. "No problem. I've got myself a shield."
I slammed into her, my momentum too great to stop myself when I realized my mistake. Bullets thudded into my flesh in an explosion of pain. I tried to push myself away from the woman, but she hooked her legs around me with a delighted whoop and plunged her teeth into my shoulder. I shrieked and reared back. It felt as though hot needles, not teeth, had punched through my skin and were burning me from the inside.
I grabbed the woman in both hands, trying to pry her teeth out of my flesh, but she hung on like a limpet and she was much heavier than she should have been. The stench of hot metal filled the air, and suddenly, the prisoner's arms were free—the cuffs were melting!—and I found myself in a real fight for the first time in years, against a type of snap I'd never seen before. I felt the first stirrings of fear.
Her arms whipped at my face, and I was splattered with molten metal, which made me snarl in pain and fury. The stench of burning hair added itself to the confusion of smells in the area. Startled shouts and the distinctive clatter of weaponry hitting the ground erupted around us, and the gunfire stopped.
A number of rounds had drilled into my opponent, but they'd had no more effect on her than they'd had on me. She let go of her terrier's grip and bounced free, laughing. She stood gracefully on the balls of her feet, and licked my blood off her lips. I gasped for breath, my heart pounding. Pain throbbed with every beat as my body pushed out ammunition that my own allie
s had used on me.
“That taste…” she said, and for the first time, her expression showed surprise. Blue eyes wide, she looked at me, and then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry. We don’t have to fight, kid. You can just let me go.”
"Don't just stand there like idiots, catch her!" I shouted, seeing her shift her weight. Then I coughed and spat out a bullet. The worst of the pain went with it.
Behind us, the rift pulsed again.
Gunfire erupted as the gathered armed forces opened fire on the thing that came through. I couldn’t get a good look—my opponent demanded my full attention—but it was huge and misshapen. Featherless wings arched upward, just barely visible in the corners of my eyes.
I lunged for her again. Nothing does speed like a charging werewolf, and I was at her position in a split second. Hitting her felt like hitting a brick wall, as though the woman were made of some material denser than flesh and blood. She braced against me, set her shoulders against my momentum, and shoved me away. Her heavy combat boots scraped along the ground, creating a shower of sparks. She was swearing under her breath in a low monotone.
My two accompanying agents watched helplessly as we fought. All that remained of their guns were puddles of metallic liquid that hardened and darkened on the concrete at their feet. The rest of the soldiers were nowhere to be seen. The scent of charcoal, sulfur, and molten metal surrounded us in a hellish miasma.
The sick blue light of the rift flickered like a strobe. Malformed monstrosities rushed through with each pulse, and they charged our agents without hesitation.
In the distance, I could hear screaming and gunfire. There was fighting near the rift. A flash of bewilderment and pain from Charles lanced through my mind, distracting me. I paid for that moment of inattention when my opponent kicked me in the diaphragm, slamming the air out of my lungs. It felt like I'd been hit by a cannon ball. I folded like a paper bag.